


Espresso, With Love

by keraunoscopia



Series: Eat Your Heart Out [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort Food, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 22:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12419301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Sonny doesn't know how to deal with emotions but he knows how to feed people.





	Espresso, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick lil fun thing. Hope you like the fluff.

Sonny is about as Italian American as it gets. He grew up spending Sundays in his Nonna’s kitchen, helping her roll out semolina pasta dough for tortellini and ravioli, and getting smacked with a wooden spoon when he tried to sneak cannoli filling before she piped it into fresh shells. He had to sit at the kids table until he was twenty, along with the rest of his cousins for Sunday dinners, but his Poppy always gave them shot glasses of red wine with dinner, and let them have sips of piping hot espresso with their biscotti. 

Sonny has never been the greatest cook in the world, though the bar he’s set for himself is unimaginably high, because no one, not a five Michelin star chef could compare to his Nonna’s cooking. But he loves to cook anyway. He has stacks and stacks of smudged and stained recipe cards in his Nonna’s left handed scrawl, and he spends way more time perusing little specialty markets and butcher shops than any seasoned detective should. 

He brings in homemade cannoli, cookies, and biscotti for the station, leaves boxes of them in the break room, or sets them on Liv’s desk before she’s in, knowing that she’ll take one and then pass them around to everyone else. When they have particularly tough cases, and spend long hours in the station, he makes sure to bring in a tray of lasagna, or baked ziti so that they have something to eat besides the cartons of Chinese takeout and slices from the pizzeria down the street. 

He makes cakes for birthdays, and will leave little packages of homemade sweets on his coworker’s desks if he knows that they’re having a hard time with one of the cases they’re working on. Sonny doesn’t really know how to handle navigating emotions, but he knows how to feed people. And as an Italian from Staten Island, he figures its pretty much the same thing. 

Finding an excuse to bring food to Rafael is a little bit more challenging, but he starts with Carmen, knowing she’s the easier target. “Oh I’ve got some files for Barba,” he’ll say when he walks in, dropping a box of baked goods on her desk, or “I had a question about this case,” with cannoli. He determines that Carmen shares with Barba when he enters the office, without pretext, one day, spotting an anise biscotti sitting next to Rafael’s favorite coffee mug. He can’t help but grin at the sight, but Rafael gets in his snips, asking why Sonny’s there, why he’s not out actually doing work, and to make up his mind about being a detective or an lawyer already. 

Sonny knows that the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, or at least that’s what his Nonna always says, and she has ninety-three years of experience feeding people so he trusts her judgment. The change is so gradual, Sonny’s not sure if Rafael noticed when he started packaging his sweets in two instead of one, leaving food on Rafael’s desk as he walks in, rather than just Carmen’s. And he practically starts beaming when he walks in one day with homemade zeppoli, and rather than waiting for Sonny to leave, Rafael reaches out for the little bag and starts eating one right there in front of him. 

Sonny finally musters up the courage to ask Rafael out for a meal, but he’s sort of still surprised when Rafael agrees. Its not a date, per say, they’d just been working late reviewing some of Sonny’s course materials, their stomachs both rumbling when Sonny suggests the little Italian restaurant down the street from the courthouse. Rafael figures the endorsement by the Staten Island Italian is sufficient to make it worth going, so he agrees with only a small amount of outward reluctance. 

Rafael’s eyes widen when Sonny orders pretty much everything on the menu, punctuated with “you gotta try this” and “this is killer, almost like my Nonna’s.” And Sonny isn’t wrong, though the food barely fits on the table. They sample everything, taking heaping bites of this and that, and Rafael has never been one to share food, but Sonny doesn’t really have a good sense on the concept of “your food and my food” being distinct and separate things, and well, “when in Rome,” so they say. 

The waitress clears the plates from their table when they’re both sufficiently stuffed, and Rafael has to resist the urge to loosen his belt by a notch. She returns with a stack of take out boxes and a dessert menu, and before Rafael can refuse, Sonny accepts the menu with a beaming smile. “Wanna get a couple things to share?” He asks Rafael. 

“I don’t know how you could possibly eat anything more.” Rafael replies, a hand dropping to his stomach. 

“That’s just what people say. There’s a separate stomach for dessert,” Sonny waves him off and orders two espressos and two slices of tiramisu. “Besides, Italians always end a meal with espresso and dessert.”

Rafael can’t help himself when the desserts arrive, Sonny’s right and he some how makes room. Its more leisurely though, sipping at the small, hot cup of high quality espresso, taking tiny bites as they talk about case law, and tips for Sonny’s trial techniques class. Somewhere along the way the conversation becomes about their families, Sonny talking about his sisters, and parents, his grandparents too. Rafael offers up more information than he intends to, talking about growing up as an only child of a single mother, his close relationship with his grandmother. Sonny can see the subtle longing in Rafael’s eyes the more that Sonny talks about his big family, the herds of cousins. Rafael has no idea what its like to have an entire network of people who have to love you. 

Rafael is surprisingly disappointed when they finally get the check, and it definitely hadn’t been a date, but Sonny insists on paying, “I ordered everything,” he laughs, “I couldn’t make you pay.” And Rafael resists, only because he knows how meager detective salaries are. Sonny pays no mind to the objections. He’s already made up his mind and Sonny doesn’t budge once he has. And he’s also made up his mind about Rafael. 

Sonny’s appearances in Rafael’s office seem to increase in frequency after their dinner, sometimes he comes with coffee, sometimes his baked goods, he brings Rafael dinner a few times when he knows the ADA is going to be working late. Rafael just sort of acquiesces to Sonny’s presence in his life. His comments are just as snarky, and eyes roll with condescension when appropriate, but he looks forward to Sonny stopping by, looks forward to their shared meals. 

There’s a line Sonny won’t cross though, even after a month of showing up at Rafael’s office everyday, going out to eat for dinner or lunch more often than not. He can’t bring himself to risk this quasi-relationship they seem to have created. Rafael is the one to push it, finally. They’re sitting across each other, espresso cups nearly empty after a good meal. Rafael had never really been one to follow a meal with anything other than work, but Sonny insists that dinner is followed by espresso, no matter how busy they are, no matter how late it is. They’re talking about paintings, and Rafael hadn’t expected Sonny to be much interested in art, but maybe he should have known better, Italian and Renaissance were practically synonymous. Rafael loves his Baroque painters, “I have a Rembrandt” he admits as they discuss their favorite artists. “Its my favorite piece in my collection.” It takes Sonny by surprise, because he knows that Rafael dresses well, and he figured the rest of his life was roughly matched, but the idea of Rafael having the sort of money it took to buy not just a Rembrandt, but to have an entire collection of artwork is jaw dropping. 

“Woah,” Sonny says, eyes widening. Always eloquent, always literate. 

Rafael invites him to come back to his place to see it. Sonny wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to see a Rembrandt, of course, but even still that’s secondary to the thought of getting to go home with Rafael. Sonny isn’t sure if he means it the way it sounds, friends can spend time at each other’s apartments, but Sonny hopes its more than that. 

It is, and their worlds meld together so easily over the next couple of months. Sonny spends most nights with Rafael, they eat breakfast together before work more days than not, smiling over newspapers and orange juice, sometimes Sonny makes a full breakfast, sometimes its just toast and coffee for Rafael. They stand shoulder to shoulder at work, not willing to hold hands, but the rest of the squad notices anyway. 

Sonny wants to tell Rafael he loves him, wants to sing it from the rooftops. But Sonny isn’t good with navigating emotions, so instead he makes Rafael a lunch every morning and packs it with a kiss.


End file.
